Oh Hell, or How I Got Caught
by Tsimiko
Summary: REVISED I was watching Gaiden, and I realized that never is it actually explained how Seiji gets caught. So I decided to make up my own version.


Author: Panthera

Disclaimer: Not mine, though I so wish they were. Oh, and Takeru from RW Universe (By Little Ucchan) makes a very small cameo. You should go read that, like right after you read this.

Spoilers: None really, this takes place just before Gaiden.

Warnings: Sage may seem a little OOC, but that's okay, there are…extenuating circumstances. Oh, and its un-beta'd. Yes, that counts as a warning.

English is in "this."

Japanese is in "_this._" Just play along, all right?

I was watching Gaiden, and I realized that never is it actually explained how Seiji gets caught. So I decided to make up my own version. I may post a little sequel, of his journey home.

* * *

**Oh Hell**

Or

How I Got Caught

I read over the letter again, wondering why Columbia University was contacting me instead of Grandfather. I suppose it has to due with his age, it wouldn't be good for him to go traveling across the ocean and the length of the United States by plane just to go look at a sword. That and its summer break, so I won't have to take off school, unlike my grandfather who would have to put most of his classes on hold. I've heard American schools will sometimes hold classes in the summer, and a lot of research is done, so it doesn't come as a surprise that they'd be asking for someone to confirm their find in early August.

Picking up the phone on the counter I'm leaning against, I go through the extensive list of numbers needed to make a call out of the country. As the phone rings, I find myself thankful that my parents insisted my sisters and I all grow up knowing both Japanese and English. It comes in handy at times like these. After a few rings, someone finally picks up on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Columbia University History Department, Professor Dowsing speaking, how may I help you?" A rather slippery voiced man answers.

"Hello, I'm Date Seiji, I was sent a letter in regards to a sword you are currently researching which you believe holds the Date crest on it, is this correct?" I ask, hoping I don't have to make another call. These things are expensive.

"Oh yes! Thank you for the prompt response. You see, our problem is that the crest is placed in a location that makes it very difficult to capture with any clarity using a camera, otherwise we would have sent pictures to you. How much trouble would it be for you to come to New York to examine it personally" The oily voice asks. I shiver, not liking it one bit, but my urge to confirm the history of this sword overrules my dislike for his voice.

"There wouldn't be much trouble at all. Is there any specific time that would be better than another?" I ask, wondering if I'll be able to get a cheaper ticket last minute.

"Not at all, anytime this coming week would be perfect. The research has slowed down quite a bit, given the trouble this crest is causing us," The man laughs depreciatingly, and my skin crawls. It's best to just get this over with, then.

"Why don't I book a flight to New York, and call you when I arrive?" I really don't want to make another one of these calls.

"Are you sure? We could have someone meet you at the airport," I narrow my eyes at his tone, but when I sense nothing else I mentally shrug.

"Thank you, but that's not necessary. If you'll excuse me, I have quite a few plans to make, and really must be going."

"Of course, of course! And please, the thanks are all mine, I'm sure this must be quite the inconvenience." I try very hard not to grit my teeth.

"Not at all, I hope to speak with you again soon, sir." Yeah right.

"I will be waiting for your call. Have a safe trip, Mr. Date."

"Thank you," I reply, hanging up.

Shaking my head, I pull up the phone book and scroll through to the airlines. Mentally preparing myself for a long afternoon, I pull up a stool and wait for the first airline to pick up. At least I cleared this with my parents last night.

* * *

"_Hello?_" 

"_Hey Nasuti_, _its Seiji."_

_"Seiji! Are you calling about the surprise party for Ryo? You can make it, right?" _I can't help but smile at her excitement.

"_Actually, I'm going to be in New York for the week, but my flight gets back on the 15th, so I might be a little late." _

_"New York? What on earth are you going to be doing in New York?" _

"_It seems Columbia University is researching a sword with what looks like the Date crest on it, and they want me to come confirm it so they can progress with their research." _

_"And this is going to take a week?" _She asks incredulously. "_Why don't you just get pictures?"_

"_The crest seems to be in an odd position, so it's hard to capture with a camera. Besides, even had they supplied a clear picture I would have liked to go confirm its authenticity." _

_"You and your swords. All right, Seiji, but you have to promise to tell me all about it when you get back." _She threatens, though I can hear the teasing in her voice.

"_It's a promise," _I reply, glad she let me off the hook rather easily.

I hate having to miss some of Ryo's party, but there wasn't an earlier flight. When flying across oceans I suppose one must be at the mercy of the airports. That's a rather daunting thought, but I haven't faced down the Netherworld just to be beaten by a few delays and scheduling details. Besides, I got the last-minute cheap tickets.

* * *

:_Screw the Netherworld, airport delays will be the death of us all_.: I think bitterly, keeping the sullen expression from forming on my face. I've been sitting in a hard plastic chair for spirits know how many hours now, and if they don't give the go ahead to board my plane, which was supposed to take off _five hours ago_, there will be justice done!

The woman sitting across the isle and down a few seats squeaks and raises her magazine, shielding her face from the force of my glare. Smoothing my face back out, I mentally beat myself over the head for letting my composure slip. I've been trained better than this, and if I must die from boredom or the overlong wait, so help me I will do it looking cool and composed!

When the voices in my head cheer in response to my little "pep talk", I realize I just might be going insane after all. Calculating how long I'm going to be sitting on the plane (I plan to sleep most of the ride) I realize that the time between my connecting flights was only about six hours or so, and I may miss it.

Groaning in despair, I nearly miss the first boarding call for my flight. The day suddenly turns from darkness and shadows to bright light and blue sky. I walk up to the counter with my small carry on, happier than I have been in quite a few hours. The entire way, I must remind myself :Do_ not bounce, do not skip, and do not sing happily like a small child_: Ha, as if I could carry a tune anyway.

* * *

"HEY! Watch where you're going!" A man angrily shouts.

"Sorry!" I call back over my shoulder, but I don't slow down any.

It took me forty-five minutes to get my bag, get through customs, and check it in for the flight from Seattle to JFK in New York. Now I have five minutes to get from one side of the airport to the other, a feat which should normally take fifteen to twenty minutes, if the lady at the counter is to be believed.

Darting around an elderly couple, I vow to make myself do extra exercises every morning this week. None of this is really my fault so it's not a punishment, but I'm finding that I really need to work on my stamina. What better way to get to know New York than by going for an early morning jog each day? Shaking out of my thoughts, I look up at a flight board, or whatever they're called, to find my flight. Ah, there it is, Seattle to New York…NOW BOARDING! Swallowing a curse, I attempt to run even faster and pray to every god out there that I make it in time.

Flying through the gate just as the flight attendant is about to close it, I hold out my ticket for her to check while trying to catch my breath. After staring at me for a minute in surprise, she looks over the ticket and leads me to my seat. Unable to speak just yet, I nod my thanks and open the overhead compartment. I immediately close it, thankful that it didn't explode in the few seconds it was open. How in the hell did these people fit all that stuff in there!

Looking down at the little diagram, I see that my seat is the middle seat. My eyes continue downward to examine my two flight companions, and only years of training keeps me from bolting. Looking back up at me are two of the largest men I have ever seen. Their fat has fat. They've gotten sweaty just sitting there. No way in hell can the one stand up to let me pass, his legs already fill the space between seats. The other is already eating a bag of chips. Not one of those smaller bags for lunch and such, no, this is the party sized bag with enough for five people.

As I squeeze past the first one and wedge myself between them, I realize that the entire cargo hold above us is filled with food. This flight is going to last a few hours. Crying inside, I quickly shove my own carry on under the seat in front of me. I try not to jump when the body beside me starts making strange noises, and I'm very proud when not even a whimper escapes.

The first hulk of fat turns to me, his entire body rippling with the motion, and not in a good way. "Hi, I'm Marcus," He says.

"Chip?" The other asks, tilting the bag in my direction.

I think I'm going to scream.

* * *

Pushing the little card into the slot, I turn the handle and take a step forward. When my face meets the door, I try not to burst out laughing. Dropping my carry-on beside me, I hit my head against the door a few times for good measure, only to have it open up in front of me. Looking up, I find a young-looking man with silver hair and eyes like glass staring at me.

"Can I help you?" He asks politely.

They would not put two strangers in a room together. "What room is this?" I blurt out, my mind not quite together at the moment.

"246," He replies, before his eyes narrow slightly. "Why?"

I stare at him for a long moment, during which I can see he gets uncomfortable. Without a word I grab my bags and drag them with me to the elevator, mumbling the entire way about not just wrong rooms, but wrong _floors_ and flights that are far too long to be anything but the work of the devil. I think he hears that last one, because I hear a chuckle before the door quietly_ shinks_ closed.

Standing before the elevator, I lean my head against the wall and punch the up button over and over again until the door finally dings open. Blinking wearily, I stumble onto it and punch the button for the third floor. Snorting in surprise when the door suddenly slides open, I realize I was drifting and drag my bags out and down the hall, to the door marked "356". Trying the card, my face again meets the door.

Sighing in frustration, I try the card a second time, surprised that it flies open when I twist the handle and shove. Startled into a temporary wakefulness, I have the presence of mind to drag everything into the room, and dump it by the dresser with the TV on it across from the bed, locking the door behind me. Slipping my shoes off, I drag the covers down and collapse onto the bed fully clothed, damned the consequences.

* * *

Squinting at the bright light, I try to dispel the fuzzy taste I get in my mouth if I don't brush my teeth the night before. Looking at the clock, I decide that a shower, food, and some more sleep to get over the jet lag are exactly what I need, in that order. I'll call the school tomorrow, they've waited this long they can wait another day.

Stumbling over to my single bag, I pull it open and drag out a change of clothes and my bathroom supplies, dumping all of it on the feeble amount of counter space in the bathroom. First order of business…is business. Teeth come next; I'm not going to stand under a shower with my mouth feeling fuzzy. While rinsing I twist on the water, trying to get it at least somewhat warm.

Stepping into the shower, I yelp very loudly and quickly turn the heat down. Apparently New York has very good water heaters. The shower now at a more comfortable temperature, I scrub every inch and at least three layers of skin off. I think I can still smell those two guys, Marcus and Flint, from the plane. Shuddering at the mere memory of them, I finish my shower and step out.

Under the sink I find a hairdryer, which I make use of, but otherwise don't style my hair at all. It falls into its usual style, and I despair of finding any way to tame it until I've grown it out long enough to put it in ponytail and keep from being so damned fluffy. The guys think I style it but really, who would style their hair to look like this? How would you style it to get it this fluffy? It's not natural!

Content with my rant for the day, I pull on some clothes and walk out into the main room. The hotel room isn't that bad, as far as hotel rooms go. I've stayed in worse. Flipping on the television, I figure I'll order up some room service. All I'm going to do today is watch mind numbing television until it gets dark, then sleep. Maybe there'll be a nap or two and a meal in there, aside from the one I'm ordering, but for the most part those are my plans for the day.

* * *

Yawning, I glance at the clock and find that it's actually a reasonable hour, if eight o'clock in the morning can be considered a reasonable hour. For most sixteen year olds it wouldn't be, but then again I'm not like most sixteen year olds. Stretching, I figure I'll grab a shower and call the school before leaving. On the way I'll get one of the famed New York Bagels for breakfast.

The plans for at least the next few hours decided upon, I find myself satisfied and ready for the day ahead. After a quick shower, followed by my usual mental rant about my hair and its overly-fluffy tendencies, I stare at the hotel room phone. I really don't want to call this guy again; his voice gives me the creeps. But if I want to see this sword, I must swallow my apprehension and call the slippery eel.

Pulling the letter out of my carry-on, I follow the directions for dialing out of the hotel and wait for someone to pick up. If I'm lucky, it may not be the same guy.

"Hello, Columbia University History Department, Professor Dowsing speaking, how may I help you?" Damn, same guy.

"Yes, hello, this is Date Seiji calling," I pause, wondering for a moment how to continue.

"Oh, Mr. Date! Are you in New York? How was your flight?" He presses, not even waiting for an answer to the first question.

"My flight was fine, thank you," I lie. "I was actually wondering if we could meet today, say around eleven o'clock this morning?" I glance over at the clock, seeing that it's nearing nine o'clock.

"That would be wonderful," He oozes.

"Would you like me to meet you at the school?" I ask, figuring I can get directions at the front desk.

"Actually, the sword isn't being kept at the school. If you'll hang on for just a moment, I'll get you directions. It's in the Little Tokyo section of New York, for cultural and safety purposes." I blink at the location, but if it's at a museum then that's relatively normal. "Ah yes, here we are. Do you have a pen and paper ready?"

Opening the beside table drawer, I find that yes; I have a pen, paper, and a bible. Using the bible as a support, I write out the directions to the museum from the subway, along with what subway line I should take to get there. Thanking him quickly and hanging up, I resist the urge to scratch between my shoulder blades, where it feels like my skin is crawling.

I check that I have money, my wallet, my hotel key and my directions and I go to leave the room before automatically turning around, grabbing my armor orb, and then pulling the door closed behind me. One never knows just what they might get into, and it always helps to have this along for the ride.

At the elevator I wonder about asking the front desk for a good bagel place, and figure it's worth a try. From what it looked like, most of the people working the front desk were girls, but maybe that was just the evening shift. Stepping onto the elevator still lost in thought, I absently press the button for the lobby and stare off into space. A dry, amused chuckle snaps me back from my wonderings and I look up only to find that same guy from yesterday. I can feel my face heat up in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I blurt out.

"Oh yes, long flight, I heard," he looks like he's trying very hard not to burst out laughing, and I can't stop my face from getting even redder.

The door pops open, "Bye!" I call, slipping around him and keeping myself from running away at full speed only with all that training I've received from Grandfather.

Stopping at the front desk, I quietly inquire of the lady sitting there where I might find a good bagel place nearby. She points me in the right direction, which I eagerly follow. The way my luck is going, when I get back tonight he'll be getting on the elevator at the exact same moment that I am.

Finding the bagel place with only a little confusion, I get one of their combo's that looks tasty. Deciding to eat in the store I find myself musing about the other guys, and how probably only Cye would find something like this normal. My father being American, whenever he makes breakfast we get eggs, bacon, pancakes, and all that, a traditional American breakfast. Then mom will make breakfast the next day, and it'll be fish and Miso soup. Satsuki loves it when dad cooks.

Just across the street is a subway terminal and I descend into its depths. Staring at the signs all pointing in different directions and the four hallways, two of them with staircases, I thank all the spirits that I've been to Tokyo and know how to follow signs. The problem is, the line I need doesn't run through this station, so I need to connect.

Finding a subway map isn't that hard, and I'm able to find the stop I want, the line I want, and then the level that line runs on, though that last one comes from the numerous signs with great big colored dots on them. At the actual entrance to the stop I see computer terminals off to the side, and decide to try my fate with one of them. Two of them are open, anyway.

The computer turns out to be fairly easy to use, as I suppose it must being public and everything. I get a connecting ticket that will let me through the gate at the other station. Pulling out some money to put in, I send a silent thank you out to my dad for making me get American currency over in Japan. I have no idea where I would be able to find a place to exchange it over here.

Riding the subway is an…interesting experience. Guys with large duffel bags full of canned food walk through the cars asking for money and then making long, guilt inducing rants when they don't get any. Around here I blend right in, so people don't stand away from the foreigner. Instead, I get a little old diseased woman sitting beside me and feeling up my leg begging me for money. I tell her sorry about 8 times before she leaves, and then my stop finally comes up.

Walking out of the terminal into open air, I find the streets alive with life. Though not quite like the real Tokyo, there are quite a few things about the entire atmosphere that scream Asian at the top of their lungs, or at least American's view of Asian. Those two things can be very different. Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I follow the directions the Professor gave me to a Temple-like building, surrounded by a good amount of open ground.

At the door to the building I figure I must need to go inside, and follow the steps up to the sliding door. It slides along rather easily, and I step inside. The interior looks much like what an old Japanese house looks like, and my curiosity piques. Exploring further, I walk to the second half of the first long room, a meeting room of some sort. A small man appears at the end of the room, cackling evilly. My blood runs cold and I suddenly realize that the worst thing that's going to happen today isn't meeting up with that man on the elevator again tonight.

As the ground drops away beneath me, all I can think is :_Oh hell_.:

* * *

_Splash_. I sputter, spitting out foul-tasting water and snatching my armor orb out of my pocket. Pulling the sub-armor on, I glare defiantly up at an ugly old man the slimy leech that posed as "Professor Dowsing". I can tell he's the same guy because the voice matches the body perfectly.

"Why, Mr. Date, thank you so much for joining us. Now if you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to pass out now." I stare at the man in disbelief.

How does he expect me to pass out? He expects me to just follow his orders? Then I notice a pair of eyes on the other side of the room, high up on the very high wall. In a very demonic fashion they glow, then shoot something at the water. I realize its electricity when my body goes rigid and I can't see through the blinding light.

My armor is light and electricity, so I have a greater resistance to this than the others might have. I go to leap out of the water when the ugly old man traps me on an upside-down triangle, another one combining with it to create a six pointed star. As pure pain is sent in jolting waves through my body, I feel the star move through the air to rest not ten feet from the swamp rat. Glaring as best I can through the pain, I grit my teeth to keep from screaming.

Then they shove a needle in my arm and a pair of headphones on my head and it all goes downhill from there.


End file.
